Adrift
by sailingswan
Summary: AU: Regina never enacted the curse. Instead, she sent the infant Emma alone to the Land Without Magic. 28 years later, Emma has finally returned home, but the Enchanted Forest is now threatened by a new evil. With the help of the dashing Captain Hook and a few other unlikely allies, The Savior must stop the Horned King and his plans before it's too late. ( will contain CaptainSwan)
1. Prologue

**Adrift - Prologue**

"Bring him in." Charming practically sighed, already feeling drained and exhausted from the previous night. He allowed himself one moment of tiredness and slumped in his throne, before straightening his shoulders and drawing himself up to sit upright. Snow's hand, soft and cooler than his own, rested on top of his, his mother's ring sparkling on her ring finger.

"It's alright. You'll be able to swallow your pride for once, I'm sure." Snow smiled at him teasingly, her eyes gleaming mischievously. She was amused by Charming's struggle.

"Let's hope so," he replied, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Their attending guardsman entered the great throne room, followed by their two expected guests.

"My most honorable Queen Snow White, my most honorable King David, I present to you Sir Lancelot, Knight and Defender of the Realm, Commodore of the Armada and recipient of the Silver Swan Medal of Honor. And also . . ." the announcing attendant, usually comfortable and certain of himself, began to haltingly announce their second guest. "And also I present Captain H- Captain Killian Jones, of – of. . . celebrated captain of his ship, the Holly Dodger – er, Roger. Jolly Roger. "

Sir Lancelot's knowledgeable eyes flitted up to Snow, meeting hers in a shared glance of bemusement. He was armored in his best. On his torso his cuirass, silver and shining, gleamed under the chandeliers of the throne room magnificently. He carried his helm in one hand and his sword sheathed at his hip. As he bent to kneel before them, the chain mail he wore rustled.

Hook, however, stayed standing. The attachment he was nicknamed after, while not rusted, did not gleam with any special appeal, and he donned his usual leather overcoat, his leather boots still stained where the ocean salt had eaten away at them, the buttons on his shirt shorn off. His own sword had been unsheathed, and was currently held by a guard for safekeeping per Charming's instruction.

"Sir Lancelot," Charming began authoritatively, "As always we thank you greatly for your services to the kingdom. Your wisdom brought us the messenger whose knowledge spared hundreds, if not thousands, of lives. Your bravery and your skills brought down an entire fleet of enemy cargo ships, all without losing a single solider."

Sir Lancelot raised his head, and though his smile was still warm and friendly, he spoke in a serious tone. "It was truly and honor to serve both your Majesties as well as the kingdom. I thank you for the privilege to serve."

As Lancelot spoke, Hook seemed to be very amused by the proceedings. Cocking an eyebrow and smirking, his eyes seemed to scan the room, trying to find an accomplice to share the hilarity with. When his eyes briefly met Charming's steely gaze, he dropped his head down, still smiling.

Snow's bright voice seemed to cut through the surreal situation, like a cool breeze on too hot of a day. "Sir Lancelot, as a token of our eternal gratitude, please accept from us the medal of the Golden Swan. Please rise."

Sir Lancelot rose to his feet as Snow stepped down from her throne, accompanied by Charming and her lady-in-waiting. Taking the medal off the plush pillow her servant had carried to her, Snow then draped it over Lancelot's head. "Take as well," she said endearingly, "our love and blessings."

A small, stifled snicker came from where Hook was standing, his right hand over his mouth and face turned away from them. Charming's already irritated expression drew tighter as he glowered him. Hook cleared his throat attempting to cover his chuckles, but a grin remained on his face after he lowered his hand.

Snow and Charming resumed their seats upon their thrones, and Sir Lancelot stepped back, leaving Hook before the king and queen alone. Charming took a deep, calming breath in an attempt to steel his nerves before he spoke. Charming cleared his throat, preparing to tuck away his pride. Thanking their own knight was easy, but thanking a damned pirate . . . well, that was another story. "Captain Hook—"

"It's Jones, if you don't mind." Hook interrupted, his tone as nonchalant as his stained boots. He gave a small, sardonic bow and added, "If it please your Majesty, that is."

Charming turned to give an exasperated look to Snow, who only smiled and gestured for him to continue with a nod of her head. "Very well. Captain Jones, then. Captain Jones, you risked your life escaping Neverland. You came to warn us about King George's evil plot, how he planned to use Dreamshade against us and our people. Thanks to you, we were able to destroy the ships carrying Dreamshade before they crossed into our borders in a pre-emptive strike. Our kingdom is grateful for your actions." Snow's hand squeezed his wrist a little too tightly. Charming sighed and continued. "_We_ are both grateful." He looked the pirate in the eye and thought he saw, for the briefest moment, a hint of pride, of some human and heroic vulnerability lurking behind a mask of indifference. In the blink of an eye, it vanished, and Charming was sure he imagined it. "Thank you for your service to us."

Hook stood silently for a moment, his gaze flickering from Snow to Charming then back. "So is that all?" He said, raising a hand to brush back his brown, ruffled hair from his eyes. "The knight of the realm gets a medal, I think I deserve a little more than just a few pretty words, don't you think?" His smiled, a devious glimmer in his eyes. Charming shifted in his seat; he was fully ready to have the pirate thrown out. But before he could say anything, Snow spoke up.

"We can't grant a pirate a medal of honor, no matter how honorable the pirate. I'm sure you can understand." Snow said graciously.

"Ah, I see. So honor is only rewarded to those who carry honor in their professions, and not to those who carry it in their actions?"

Snow hesitated for a moment, staring at Hook as though she were really seeing him for the first time. Finally she spoke again. "Captain Jones, as a token of our gratitude, we would like to formerly extend an invitation to the ball, held in honor of our only daughter's birthday, to you and the crew members of your fine vessel, the Jolly Roger." Horrified, Charming's head snapped to look at Snow, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Openly ignoring Charming's obvious distress, Snow motioned for her lady-in-waiting. "Sara, please be sure Captain Jones is handed an official invitation. Captain Jones, you and your crew will be expected to dress and behave like gentlemen. Should you decide to come, you will be most welcome."

Even after the formal invitation was handed to Hook and both he and Sir Lancelot had been escorted out of the palace, Charming was still staring at his wife in complete disbelief.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Now you all should have seen this coming. A ball, and Emma in a poofy dress. A princess and a pirate waltzing across the dance floor. Sigh. Ah, romance. Hope you all enjoy this installment, as the first actual chapter it is longer than the prologue. It was definitely a pleasure to write. This is the cool calm before the shit storm. I'll try to finish editing the next chapter before the week's up.

**Disclaimer:** None of these characters belong to me but are from Once Upon a Time, copyright to ABC and the writers of the show (obviously). A little extra disclaimer here: without spoiling what happens, I do want to note that there is **one line of dialogue that is taken almost directly from the show itself and credit goes to the writers of the episode it's from.** Captain Swan shippers should be able to spot it the moment it comes up, it's unmistakable. I just couldn't resist, the line is too perfect for their relationship and its development, but I just needed to put it out there it's not mine.

* * *

Emma closed her eyes tightly, readying herself. She tried to inhale a deep, calming breath, but the corset she'd been laced into constrained her ribs from expanding enough. The enormous oak doors before her were pulled open, and the bright, shimmering golden light from the ballroom chandeliers washed over her face. Feeling a thousand faces fixated on her, Emma opened her eyes and stepped forward, her heels pinching her toes with every step. Snow White had told her not to hold the railing, but the thought of toppling down the grand staircase at her own celebration was probably a much greater faux-pas than holding the handrail. She set her gloved hand lightly on the rail, tried to put on a beatific smile as she threw her shoulders back, and steadily made her way down the staircase, step by step. Her gown, as heavy as it was beautiful, threatened to send her sprawling to the floor. She kicked with every step just as she was taught, the tulle and taffeta rustling noisily in the hushed room.

She had never felt stranger in the Enchanted Kingdom than she did when wearing her princess attire. Emma had spent so long living in jeans and leather jackets that wearing day dresses with enormous hoop skirts and delicate beading was more than strange; it was downright alien to her. Today she was in full "fairy tale mode." Her pale blue gown was full skirted with a short train, the sweetheart bodice encrusted with sparkling rhinestones, and she wore long white gloves that reached past her elbows, embroidered with lavender-colored roses along the seams. Her hair fell down in honey-blond curls down her back, unbraided and unadorned at her request.

With luck, she made it down the stairs in one piece despite the princess wardrobe, joining her parents on the bottom stair. Her parents. Snow White and Prince Charming. It was still all so surreal. They both were smiling proudly at her, beaming so happily that Emma felt uncomfortable.

"Friends. Family." Charming turned towards their guests. "You all know how happy this occasion is for our family, our kingdom. Our daughter, your Princess Emma, was returned to us only months ago. Before then, her birthday was met with sadness, a yearly reminder of the little girl we had lost. But now, we can now celebrate and rejoice that she's been returned to us!" A huge, booming applause erupted, spiked with shouts and cheers. A lady-in-waiting carried a plush velvet pillow to Snow, a diamond tiara balanced precariously on top of it. With a delicate hand, Snow lifted the tiara up for all to see.

Emma sighed inwardly as she dropped to a low curtsy with as much grace as she could muster, her skirts pillowing up beneath her. Gently as possible, Snow lowered the tiara onto Emma's head, the weight of it crushing her curls. As Emma rose shakily to her feet, the guests exploded into cheers again. The musicians began to play a cheery, light tune and soon the dance floor was full of couples twirling about. Charming offered his arm to Snow, but she hesitated a moment, glancing at Emma unsurely.

"Will you be alright on your own?" Snow asked, but Emma was already pressing her toward Charming and his extended hand.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be fine, it's just party. I can handle parties." Emma replied, sounding much more self-assured than she really felt. "Go dance." Snow smiled gratefully before allowing Charming to pull her away, and soon they were laughing across the dance floor with the other couples, leaving Emma blissfully alone.

With the attention finally diverted off of her, Emma was free to wander the ballroom unattended. Without further ceremony she removed her tiara. She wore it on her arm so wouldn't lose it, but also so she still could avoid the masses of well-wishers who couldn't recognize her without it. What she could use now was a little drink. She cut through the chattering hoards of fairy-tale folk until she reached the wine table. The attendant, flustered and stammering, was conversing with another guest, and the dwarves surrounded the table, loudly and robustly socializing amongst themselves.

"I-I'm so very sorry, Captain, but we do not serve hard alcohols or liquors." Emma heard the attendant stutter nervously.

"No rum then? Well that's a damn shame… I suppose I could give this other lot a try, couldn't I?"

Her gown constricting her mobility, Emma shoved her way forward through the dwarves, stretching her arm out to reach for a champagne flute. Evidently the man complaining about the lack of rum was reaching for the same glass, and her hand brushed against his. The two rings he wore lightly grazed over her gloved hand, the engraved and embossed metals chafing the fabric lightly. Emma looked up just as he turned to fully face her.

He was surprisingly handsome, with a strong jawline, covered in trim stubble. His molasses brown hair was swept to the side casually, dashingly ruffled, a few loose strands falling across over his forehead. His eyes met hers. Under his full brows, his eyes were a steely blue, and fathoms deep. Despite the coolness of their color, they smoldered like embers, burning with an intense blue flame. There was something . . . something roguish about him that was not altogether unpleasant.

He regarded her with a cocked eyebrow, appearing quite amused. "Well, pardon me." His voice was like suede – smooth, a little gravelly, and textured with an accent Emma couldn't place. "My apologies, milady. Here." He handed her the champagne glass they'd both reached for, and Emma accepted it. English. His accent was definitely English, but it seemed to have a touch of an Irish lilt.

"Thanks." Emma raised her glass up in a small toast before taking her first sip. She wished it had a higher alcohol content, briefly recalling the satisfying burn of her usual drink choices like scotch or vodka, which incidentally both sounded excellent at the moment. But the champagne was sweet and bubbly, and left a pleasantly warm feeling in her stomach as she sipped. The man beside her had started to drink from his own flute, although he set it down after one sip, cringing in distaste. He reached for a dark burgundy instead, and seemed much less displeased by its taste.

"You may want to wear that on your head, Princess." He pointed to Emma's tiara with his ringed forefinger, slightly leaning forward towards her as he spoke. "Never know what sort of shady character might want to steal that away."

Emma shrugged in response and continued to sip her champagne, watching the dancers spin.

They stood together for a few minutes, awkwardly drinking side-by-side without any conversation. After two slowly paced dances Emma could not recognize, a smooth waltz began to play. It was one of the few Snow had tried to teach her.

"Well," her drinking companion broke through their silence. "As it seems impossible to carry polite conversation, I believe the gentlemanly thing to do is ask the lady for a dance." He put down his empty glass and extended his hand out to Emma. It was then she noticed his left hand, loosely at his side – or, more appropriately, the complete lack thereof. Extending out from his black collared sleeve was a hook, the silver metal shining almost menacingly in the light of the candelabra.

"You're _Captain Hook_?" Emma openly gaped at him. Images of permed wigs and red overcoats with enormous hats covered in plumes floated in her head. When Charming and Snow had told her Captain Hook had given them the information that prevented a war, this wasn't the face she'd pictured.

Her incredulous stare didn't seem to faze the captain, however. "Ah, so you've heard of me." His hand was still held out to her. "Name is Killian Jones, actually."

Emma's eyes flicked from Hook's face back to his offered hand. He seemed to sense her trepidation.

"Would the Princess reject a request from the man who helped save her kingdom from certain doom?" He raised his eyebrows at her inquiringly, an almost challenging smirk tugging the corners of his mouth.

"It wasn't 'certain doom.' I'm pretty sure we'd have managed without your help, someway." Emma replied saucily. His smirk only grew, those blue eyes teasing her flirtatiously. Just one dance. It couldn't hurt much. She could use the practice anyway, even if it was with a pirate who was probably an unskilled dancer. Emma set down her glass, gingerly placed her tiara back on her head, and cautiously placed her hand in his.

The warmth from Hook's hand began to seep into her silken gloves, his grasp firm but not overpoweringly tight. He deftly lead her through the throng out to the edge of the dance floor, placing his hand on her waist and gesturing to Emma that she should rest hers on his hook, which he held up in the ready position. Emma instead laid her hand on his wrist. Slowly and uneasily, she began to follow the steps Snow had been teaching her. The lessons that had been drilled into her head the past few days were jousting in her mind like frenzied piranha. _Chin up. Box-step left. Arms up and straight. _

"Will you allow me to lead, please? It is the gentlemen's job you know." He tried to sound irritated, but Hook seemed to find Emma's lack of grace amusing. The charming grin he wore betrayed the annoyed tone in his voice.

"Right. Sorry."

"And your other hand needs to be on my shoulder, not my elbow."

"Right."

"And you may want to actually follow the tempo, luv."

"Will you stop talking? I'm trying to remember the steps, and it's a little hard to do that with you breaking my concentration."

Hook sighed, feigning exasperation. "Oh, poor little Princess." The glowering look Emma gave him in response actually made him chortle. "It's easier than you're making it. Slow, then quick, quick. Keep count in your head – one, two three, one, two three. . ."

Emma began to keep count with him, slowly learning to adjust her steps and widen her strides. His right hand rested at her waist and would press her into the correct direction, sending a warm rush of tingles down her spin every time he helped her adjust. He smelled so invitingly warm, woodsy like teakwood yet still clean and fresh, as if he lived and breathed his ship and the sea and carried it with him wherever he went. Slowly and with his guidance, Emma's dancing improved. He even talked her through the spin she couldn't conquer the day before. Their motions synchronized and the tempo brightened as they soared across the dance floor, smoothly like the ebb and flow of the tide on a calm night. Emma allowed him to glide her through the reverse turn, which Hook managed to teach her with ease, falling back to spin her around. Her skirts billowed and unfurled around her as she spun, and as he caught her again he lowered her to dip, but Emma straightened herself abruptly. Hook recovered without falling out of tempo, gliding them back into the reverse turn.

"No," Emma refused breathlessly as they continued dancing. "I don't dip. You could drop me."

"Drop you?" Hook let out a short chuckle. "I wouldn't dream of it, Princess." Leaning in closely to her ear, he whispered conspiratorially, "You ought to try something new, darling. It's called trust." Without warning, he pulled her out from the reverse turn step early, twirled her around and, to Emma's surprise, lowered her fluidly into a smooth, low and elegant dip before she could protest. He lifted her back up with a gentle dexterity, grinning deviously at her shocked expression.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** So excited to post this chapter. Some great relationship-building moments here, but this is also where all the fun times begin. It did turn out longer than planned, sorry about that. Also I wanted to let you guys know that while this chapter is also third-person limited from Emma's POV, it won't always be from Emma's POV and will vary.

I am leaving you a little guessing game to play at the end this chapter (I don't want to spoil the ending here but you'll know what I mean). Whoever guesses right gets an imaginary satchel of gold. ;) Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this installment!

**Disclaimer:** As always, none of these characters belong to me but are from Once Upon a Time, copyright to ABC and the writers and creators of the show (obviously).

* * *

"So tell me," Emma began after she recovered from her surprise. She finally felt comfortable enough to carry conversation while they danced. Maybe that would keep him from dipping her again. "How does a pirate learn the venishen waltz?"

"I believe it's pronounced 'viennese' waltz, Princess."

"Whatever it's called. How do you know how to waltz around like some prince?" Blue lightening flashed outside, gleaming bluish white against the ballroom's enormous windows.

"Like a prince? Well now that is a comparison never applied to me before." Hook dodged Emma's prying question with the same nimble control he demonstrated as he slowed himself and Emma mid-step without missing a beat. The music had grown more soothing and mellow, settling like a soft glimmer around them. "You know you probably _could_ have been dancing with a prince," he noted, jerking his head in the direction of the gaggle of lordly men that stood at the dance floor's edge. Emma realized that while most had their eyes on the ladies across the room, a small handful of them were staring at her, one in particular shooting Hook cross, angry glances. "You could be waltzing with some duke or even a king. And yet instead you're hiding your crown and drinking alongside a pirate. I wonder why that is."

Still in harmony, Hook stepped back and dropped his hand from her waist. Each time he began to spin her, he let his left arm – his hooked arm – sink to his side and raised his right to twirl her with. Not even the extra motions seemed to throw him off. There was another surge of lightening outside, this time followed by a tumultuous, roaring thunderclap that rattled even the musicians' stands.

"I wasn't drinking alongside a pirate, I was just grabbing a drink and a pirate just happened to be in my way." Emma replied unaffectedly, her voice even and expression unchanged.

"Ah, I see. " Hook remarked evenly, but he grinned in amusement, still steering them through the dance. Emma reluctantly met his gaze. His pupils widened, those blue eyes of his uncomfortably perceptive even with their playful gleam. "It couldn't perhaps be that you're afraid, are you?" He raised his eyebrows up at her, speaking lightly the words that fell so heavily on Emma's ears.

"Afraid? Are you serious?" Emma tried to laugh, but it only came out as a sharp, scoffing breath through her nose. Her words were disjointed and unanchored, even to herself. "Afraid of what, going to a party? That my dress will come alive and strangle me to death?"

Hook shrugged, still not breaking their direct eye contact. "You're still an orphan, Princess. You'll carry that fear of losing all of this –" he raised his gaze, finally relieving Emma of his penetrating stare, and glanced sweepingly from one wall to the other, gesturing to encompass the entire room "—until you realize that."

She could walk away right now. No one would think anything of it. She could left go of his wrist, pull her waist from his hand and walk away. But she couldn't bring herself to. Her intuition, mingled with an insatiable curiosity, kept her beside him, still swaying in tune with the music and his steps. Every time they pulled closer she could smell him again, each woodsy note of his aroma salted yet impossibly fresh.

"Well I'm not an orphan anymore. I found my family and I am perfectly happy." She responded bluntly, pursing her lips. She fixed her eyes over his shoulder, staring through a window to avoid looking at him. Lightening was still breaking in flashes outside. There was no rain.

"Well, you don't have to admit to anything out loud. I still know it to be true."

"And how exactly can you be so sure?"

Above, the chandeliers began flicker gently.

"Have you ever heard of the Lost Boys, Princess? Well, I've unfortunately spent much time in Neverland with the lot of them. And I can tell you with absolute certainty that you aren't so different from a Lost Boy. You've got that same look in your eyes."

A strange gust of wind blew throughout the ballroom, swift and strong. The hundreds of candles, held up by candelabra and candlesticks, blew out without forewarning, flooding the ballroom in semi-darkness. A murmured hush fell over the guests. The musicians stopped playing, their stands and sheets of music scattered all over the bandstand floor, and the dancers all slowed to a stop with the sound of rustling skirts.

"Ah, just what we needed, eh lass?" Hook jested, completely blasé and unimpressed by the changes around him. "A little lighting to help set the romantic mood."

With the ballroom so poorly lit, the chandelier lights waning in and out, and the blue smoke pluming from the snuffed candles, Emma felt a wave of foreboding suddenly overcome her every sense. This scene – it felt familiar and frightening for reasons she couldn't grasp. Her eyes began to scan the room, looking for Charming and Snow White. Brows furrowed tightly with worry, she released herself from Hook's hold, taking a step away from him. Outside, thunder from the rainless storm burst so loudly that the ballroom shook.

BOOM.

An enormous explosion from outside quaked the ground, hard, rattling the windows like a hundred canons had been fired all at once. The chandeliers dimmed even lower, flicking even more wildly and swaying ominously. Fearful shouts and cries began to fill the ballroom. Before Emma could further comprehend what was happening around her, the windows all shattered in unison, showering her with broken glass. She threw her arms over her head, feeling shards of broken glass nip and bite the raw skin exposed on her shoulders. Another crash resounded loudly from behind her, as screams and the sound of running feet began to climax to an unbearable volume.

Someone had taken her by the wrist roughly, and she felt herself being dragged forward so hard she had to run to keep her shoulder from being yanked out of its socket. The enormity of her gown was hindering her every step. She tried to kick up her skirt as she ran, her pace uneven and halting. Shaking the glass from her curls as she threw her head back, she looked up to see it was Hook, dragging her through the hoard of people with an unbridled sense of urgency. His entire demeanor had changed from his previous jaunty, devil-may-care attitude. Jaw tightened in determination and eyes aflame with purpose, he wormed his way through the chaotic throng.

"Keep up, Princess – I'd hate for you to have that dress of yours mussed!" He called back to her, still finding the time to jest even under the circumstances.

Emma finally steeled her nerves enough to peer behind, and instantly wished she hadn't. The chandeliers were falling one by one, crashing onto the marble floor in a composite of gold metal, hot wax, and crystal pieces that spattered into hundreds of flying shards. She witnessed one drop, crushing dozens of people in its plunge, inciting terrible cries of pain and anguish that sent a chill of dread through her veins.

"What the hell is happening?" she screamed. As if in response, a blaze of red and grey smoke came careening through one of the broken windows, billowing and unfurling as it sank to the floor. The sheer hysteria of the attendees had reached a breaking point: their screams had grown so loud Emma's ears starting ringing, and for a moment she went nearly deaf and couldn't hear anything. Every person who tried to squeeze past her in the suffocatingly tight crowd threatened to break her grip on Hook, but he held onto her like a vice. With a sudden show of strength, Hook yanked Emma towards him, knocking the people between them away.

They collided. Emma toppled over, the weight of her dress forcing her down. She clutched Hook's shoulders for support, subsequently flattening him onto a table and falling on top of him in a confusion of tulle and taffeta. His hand still held tightly to hers. The ringing in her ears dissipated, and sound began to filter through her eardrums again.

"Well, as much as I appreciate the thought, Princess, now is definitely not the appropriate time," said Hook, breaking into the mischievous grin Emma now took to be his signature. Like a rippling tide pulling back into sea, his smile wiped clean off his face before Emma could come up with her own snarky reply. He stood slowly and pulled her up with him, still clutching her hand, his eyes widened in fear. "Seven hells, what is that?"

The smoke that had blown in through the window began to curl upwards, glowing red. With a huge, resounding roar that rattled Emma to the marrow, the smoke flared outward to reveal an enormous, beastly creature. Its bright yellow eyes scanned the room, searching. Its gigantic wings unfurled as it stretched its elongated neck, its spiked tail raised high enough to touch the vaulted ceiling. All black scales, all red flames, all charcoal smoke.

Emma was staring at a dragon. A _real_ dragon. Not a picture in the children's book she'd stolen from the public library. Not something in some fantasy movie about dwarves and hobbits. A completely real and fully-grown dragon. It was bearing down upon them all, smoldering at the mouth with fiery breath and looking in her direction. Its bullish roar set off more screams and panicked cries of terror. Then the beast lowered its horned head and suddenly everything in its path was aflame.

Hook's reaction was swift and confident as he released Emma's hand and went to draw his sword, his shoulders thrown back and legs apart as he stood unshrinking, prepared to give this monster his worst. But his hand fumbled: his sword was not at his side, its sheath hanging empty on his hip. He groaned in frustration. "Damn that father of yours and his trust issues." Grabbing Emma's hand again, he turned to face her quickly, his eyes anxious. "No other option but to run, lass, and fast as we can."

Emma met his glance with uncertainty. She could let him lead her away into safety. She could put her trust in his hand, and let him guide her. But who was this man, really? A pirate. Captain Hook, notoriously villainous despite his handsome looks and winning grins. Something terrible was happening, and who was to say he wasn't involved in it? Who was he to save her? Ropes of confusion and distrust tightened around her ribcage like a corset being laced. She couldn't think, couldn't rationalize, couldn't understand – and now smoke and ash began to fill the air, the dragon's roars coming closer and closer as Hook's eyes became more earnest.

"_PRINCESS EMMA_! PRINCESS EMMA, TO ME! _TO ME_!" A familiar voice shouted over the chaos, distant but still audible. It broke Emma's train of discombobulated thoughts and made everything clear.

Pirates don't rescue princesses.

She pulled her hand away sharply, gathering up her skirt in both arms as best she could. The uproarious and panicked hoard of people tore between her and Hook, dragging them apart. For one brief moment, she imagined a glimmer of hurt flit across his blue eyes, seasoned heavily with worry. It vanished quickly behind a veneer of passive indifference. But he stood unmoving, not running away, his eyes locked on her face as he was pushed farther and farther away from her. The crowd and smoke overtook him and soon she couldn't see Hook anymore. Emma turned away, battling through alone as the dragon's roars sent vibrations of terror through her skin. Falling sparks of flaming ash burned her skin as she blindly barreled forwards, running to the unknown person calling her name.


End file.
